Love?
by FearlessPride
Summary: Justin's POV before, during, and after Jennifer visits the loft in 401 - not too long......my first FanFic so please r&r - & don't be nice, I need critisicm...
1. Part 1

Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine, the main concept isn't mine, CowLip/Showtime owns it all (and rightly so – they're amazing, so is the show...I'm not making money off this (not like I could anyway) – I just love the show and the characters are so easy to identify with. If you are offended by m/m, why the hell are you here? Leave. Now. Also, I'm a lesbian, so please forgive the horrible gay male sex.  
  
The school obviously hasn't forgiven me for loving Brian. Professor McAdden proved that this morning for sure. I just need to get home - where are my fucking keys? - and see the source of all of my misery.  
And pleasure. Oh gd, pleasure. Need to see -  
' It's a real special place you've got here, Brian.' Not her. What's she doing here? Why the hell is my mother standing with Brian in the middle of the loft?  
'Mom?'  
'Oh, hi honey.' Honey? I'm not 10 years old anymore, Mom.  
'Hi, honey!' Thank you for that, Brian. I now feel like Lucy's husband on that old show, I Love Lucy or whatever, the one who sang, played maracas, and wore frilly costumes for a living. He was so gay. The man wore glitter, for Chrissake!  
Anyway. Why is my mom standing there? Why is she here, telling Brian about the loft's good qualities (of which she has only found one)?  
'Let's face it Brian – It's a fuck pad.'  
'Mom...' Ha! If only you knew. Or actually, it's better you didn't know. Thank gd Brian thought to put away all the toys, and take down the stuff in the shower. 'What are you doing here?'  
O gd. Fuck. Brian locked everything up. He knew she was coming. Asked her to come. With her work stuff. She doesn't have to answer. I don't want to hear this. I don't want to hear this!... 'I'm selling the loft.' No! Didn't I say I didn't want to hear this?  
I want to tell him how upset I am. How angry, how sad. All I can manage to say is 'What!?'  
I don't hear anything else they say. I can't stand to listen to them anymore. Can't bear their calm, cool attitudes. How can he be calm?  
Go Mom. Go home. Leave. I need to think. We – Brian and I – need to think. And that involves something you don't want to see. Or hear.  
I don't want to see or hear what I am now. Linds. Michael. Deb. So many people love Brian. They can help him. Help us.  
Yea. The day Brian Kinney accepts help is the day I fuck Daphne. And I would, if it meant saving what Brian and I know. And love. Love...  
So much love. He'll never come out and say it, but he feels it too. There is so much love in this loft. His loft. Our loft. The loft.  
'Bye darling.' Thank gd. She's leaving. Yes. Go. No. No one cares what you have to do later. Go.  
'It's the least I can do.' No, the least you ca do is take three more steps. Out the door. Yes. And shut it. Good. 


	2. Part 2

She's gone. Finally. I'm starting to listen.  
' I thought you were starting your own agency. That your clients were going to go with you.' Stupid question. Stupid stupid stupid. They're obviously not. 'So take out a loan.' Another stupid suggestion. And he knows it. 'I'm not exactly the best risk'. He was to me. But that's a different story. I feel like a kid trying to help his parents, just making wild suggestions I know won't work. 'Get a job with another agency.' 'I do have an offer.' Yes! Ha! 'In Scranton. It's at half my salary'. No. We are not moving to Scranton. I'm not going back into the closet so that we can move to Homophobic, PA. Uh-uh. 'You never should have listened to me.' Why did I have to be so fucking inspiring? Apparently Michael used the whole 'risking everything' line too, with Hunter. Damn. I know ,I know; he listened to himself. Sure. Always the one on top. Not that I particularly mind that. I like being on the bottom, his hard cock pushing deeper and deeper into my hole. Every time like the first time. 'It's more than that. It's where we made love for the first time.' Eh. Made love sounds too emotional. How's fucked the hell out of each other? 'That wasn't love.' Ah, he feels the same way. What ever it was, it was damn good. 'I just gave you a rim job and fucked your brains out.' I repeat: It was damn good. Trying to smile. I failed miserably. All I can manage is 'It was love to me'. And it was. Just a little rougher. Tough love. 


	3. Part 3

Tough love. Brian is tough love. It's all he knows. And now, it's all I care to know. And he's coming at me with those eyes, something almost animal in them. Yes. A silent plea. Come to me. Now. I want you. As much as I did that amazing first night. Here, in this loft. I lean in for what one might call a kiss. I taste his lips on mine, feel his teeth dragging my lips in. His mouth opens by means of an invitation. His mouth tastes so good. Gd I love this man. So much. He pulls back. No - don't let go. I feels his hands on my chest as he pulls of my shirt. Now, either one of two things will happen. a) We'll fall on the floor and make slow, sweet love, or b) we'll fall down on the floor and have rough, hardcore sex. I'm opting for the hardcore sex. Brian's his best when severely pissed off. Feeling the burn in his touch, the heaviness in his breath, I think it's safe to say he agrees. Shove him down. Good. And...yes. I'm down with him, below him. I love this man. No. Please don't pull away. Oh. Oh. Oh. Yes. Hot kisses run down my neck, my back, stopping at the waistband of my jeans. Don't stop. He puts his hands around me, down at the belt buckle of my jeans. I get hard just at his touch there, above my cock. Yes. O, gd yes. He fumbles. The belt buckle came undone, and his hands are going up and down my shaft, dancing around the spots he knows I love, his fingers burning a pattern into me. Don't ever stop. He kicks off his own jeans. I feel his hard-on pressed against my back. I'm waiting for the lube, the condom. The rubber on skin. But it doesn't come. Somehow, he knows I need this – one final hard fuck on the floor of the loft. In two seconds, he pushes himself up and jams his cock into me. In and out, in and out – fast, hard, amazing fucks. Like fire, every one of them. I automatically tighten up – like a virgin, like the first time. His fingers trace patterns down my cock, gently squeezing. Oh gd. Oh. Oh. It feels so good. Push him in, as deep as he can possibly go. We share a little gasp of air, surprised at how together we are, how united. I need this. As I'm lying here, feeling his raw skin rub against the inside of my ass, feeling the friction, the tension, I realize something: No matter where we go, where we live, there's only one thing I really need. And as a huge shot of cum shoots up my hole, I realize something else: I already have him. 


End file.
